The Academy, Charleston
by Bremsstrahlung
Summary: 2 years post-Chosen (not comic canon). Buffy and the Scoobies have established a training center in Charleston, a central hub to fight evil in the American South. Faith has been part of the background. So why is Buffy so angry when Faith has a solid plan to go find more slayers? Fuffy
1. Xander's Slayer Relations 101

"Maybe that girl you've noticed at school who doesn't have many friends but she's always busy with social activities. Maybe that girl you see around who has a boring job, but you know she's always traveling somewhere interesting. Maybe the girl who is stunning, fit, and single, but she has no interest in meeting someone or ever going on a date.

"They could just be shy, sure. They could easily be just a little anti-social, or maybe their jobs really are extraordinary. But let's be honest that the chances are, that girl you are thinking of is probably a slayer." Xander Harris let that last word sink in, with a dramatic flair. He looked quickly around the room at their eyes, all captivated. He saw a few nod intently, affirming his instruction.

Xander glanced with his good eye toward the clock and saw that the hour was nearly over. He grinned back at the room full of young slayers. "So remember; ask questions, and volunteer bits of information. Nothing that will give you away. Use coded language, especially in private. Ask if they like to go to the cemetary. Challenge them to arm wrestle. Pretend to be clumsy and drop something, then see if they catch it, lightning fast." He wobbled and then snatched at an imaginary object in the air, pantomiming. A few of the girls giggled. "When you have enough evidence, invite them over for a movie night. We will vet them. Or bring us your notes. Remember! Always take notes!" With that comment, he pointed toward the clock. "I won't keep you any later tonight, slayers. Go get some sleep."

The young former-potentials filed out, the few politest thanking him as they passed him at the doorway, as they did after every one of his classes. When all 15 of them were gone, Xander rubbed his hands together, smiled, took a deep breath, and sunk into his chair. He pulled a notebook out of his desk drawer and flipped it open, tapping it absentmindedly as he began to review his lesson plans.

It went without saying that the young man had found his truest calling as a teacher to the slayers. He never thought he would enjoy it as much as he did; standing in front of people and speaking sure didn't seem like his jam. Yet these weren't intimidating kids, like the jerks he had been in high school with. These weren't skeptics who challenged and criticized him, the way that his peers on construction crews had when he was in charge of delivering safety briefings once a month. These were slayers who were ready and willing to learn. These were girls who had no idea what it meant to be struck with all the power the fates (and kinda, Willow) had given them. These were passionate students who thirsted for knowledge. He was one of the Scoobies, he meant something. He knew something. It wasn't idol worship, it was trust.

There was a tap at the door and the sound of someone clearing their throat that drew Xander's attention away from his notebook.

"Hey, Al."

"You wanna try that again with a new nickname?" He snapped with a half-serious tone.

The lithe second slayer grinned widely from the doorway. "Well it's part of your REAL name, isn't it?" Faith's eyes looked toward the ceiling in thought for a brief second. "How about... X-clamation point? Or maybe you'd prefer, Waiting to X-hale?"

He tried to hide his chuckle, knowing it would only encourage her. "Are you about done, Faith No More?"

"Oh, that's original." She spouted sarcastically. "As much as I'd love to hear more of your extremely lame brain names for me, I did come here for a reason. Do you think any of those baby girls is ready for some real slaying with the big and original badasses? Buffy says it's time for nominations."

"Already? Didn't we just do that yesterday?"

"Nah, you're getting old. It's definitely time."

Xander scrunched his nose as if he were smelling something foul. He flipped back the pages in his notebook until he found the date for one month prior, the last time he had made a nomination. He reviewed each page quickly, looking for his notes on each young slayer he instructed.

Faith grew impatient but said nothing. She stepped further into the room and slunk down into a student's chair, pulling out her phone and playing with it.

"Did you already get nominations from everyone else?" Xander asked curiously, not looking up from the pages.

"Nah," she clicked away on her phone keypad, "I figure I'll start with you and validate your noms and then just 'forget' about everyone else. The other scoobs never want to talk to me, anyway."

He didn't fully believe that, but thought it was perhaps one of Faith's odd ways of complimenting him. She was pretty backhanded with her affection. He read one of his notes from a few weeks prior, then rolled it around in his thoughts before speaking out loud. "What about... Maria Hernandez? She's been showing a lot of promise."

Faith chortled. "Let me guess, she's doing great academically? Girlfriend can't throw a punch to save her life. Or to literally save someone else's. She needs a lot of work in combat skills."

"Have you tried making the fight into a formula? She can memorize like nobody's business. If she knew what to do..."

"Fighting like that works for boring slayers, like B. My girls fight like rock stars. I'll only take one out when they can throw punches uninhibited."

There was a light sound of footsteps at the doorway. Both Xander and Faith looked up with a bit of alarm, as if they had been caught in betrayal of some kind.

"So, I'm boring, now?" There the subject of conversation stood in the flesh, arms crossed, full-fledged judgement face. Her dark blonde eyebrows were down dramatically toward green eyes, glaring intensely. Buffy's gaze directed on Faith, but with a level of rage that seemed extreme in proportion to the benign comment that she had just overheard. Truly this was the reason for why the phrase "if looks could kill" was invented.

The brunette slayer shifted to the other side of her chair but otherwise appeared to let the scrutiny bounce off her. "Only when you slay, girlfriend."

This comment only served to make the air even more tense, which Xander hadn't honestly thought possible. He looked between the two women and even with only one good eye, it was entirely obvious that things were exceptionally heated between the two of them. He hadn't seen them this glare-y since well before they had all left Sunnydale, on a bus, headed toward Cleveland. That was almost 2 years ago, and Faith had been living among the scooby gang and newly called slayers in (mostly) harmony. Hell, she was even an instructor in their makeshift academy. She had tagged along as they closed yet another hellmouth in Ohio, driven south to Georgia for what turned out to be a fluke, and finally settled here, in Charleston. Obviously, it wasn't all rainbows and sunshine; Faith wasn't a 'friend' to anyone. But she contributed. She was part of the team. She and Buffy weren't enemies anymore, were they?

Xander cleared his throat subconsciously, but neither girl looked toward him. "So..." he began, his voice cracking unintentionally, "we were just reviewing my nominations. I was thinking of Maria but, maybe not. So, maybe, someone else."

"That's great," the hostile blonde seemed to be responding to Xander but still didn't even so much as glance his direction, "I hope collecting nominations isn't proving too 'boring' for Faithy, here. It's nice that she can still pretend to be helpful when it's so awful for her to be part of our team."

"I never said it was awful." Faith muttered under her breath without her usual salty wit. "If you're going to accuse me of something, at least try to be honest about it."

Something about that seemed to derail Buffy's angry resolve, or perhaps she had nothing to say. She narrowed her eyes one last time at her sister slayer, then spun on her heel. "Get me those noms tonight." She called back over her shoulder, as she basically stormed down the hallway.

The silence between the two remaining in the room was awkward, to say the least. Faith put her chin in her hand and stared toward the wall. Xander looked back down at his notes but couldn't manage to focus on the words. He kept thinking about the weird juju he had just witnessed and how uncharacteristic it had been on behalf of both slayers. Buffy might not have been cheerful and giddy since the near-apocalypse, but she definitely didn't seem _angry_ about much of anything. It took a lot to get her heated, while Faith was usually not so readily deflated. He kept glancing in her direction to see if she looked like she wanted to talk, but she seemed to be deeply concentrating on everything else in the room and the space around them.

"Did you think about... what do you think of Sarah S?" He practically whispered, and it still felt too loud.

"Yeah." Faith mumbled back. "She's ready. Thanks."

Without any discussion, the brunette rapidly got up and walked straight out the door. Typically there was a process to the nomination of ranking a slayer on five essential skills, but obviously they were not going to conduct business as usual in this instance. Xander watched the hallway through the doorframe to his classroom for a minute or two, wondering, hoping that either of the two originals would come walking back in and explain to him just what the fuck kind of bizarre shit he had just witnessed. Of course, it probably wasn't his business, but damn if he didn't still want to know.


	2. Why Charleston, Why

Chapter Two

Why Charleston

In retrospect, Buffy had thought that Cleveland would be the place of reckoning. Closing a second hellmouth, when they were still so vulnerable from the collapse of Sunnydale, seemed a bit foolish. She did her best to lead their group of 32 slayers in Ohio, but all of them were inexperienced, selfish, and immature. Willow, Kennedy, Xander, Giles, and Andrew had formed a "committee" of non-slaying humans and called themselves Shield, after something that Andrew had explained to her several times, but it was still a vague comic reference that she couldn't remember. They came up with initiatives and ideas and tried to troubleshoot boring problems that kept the slayers functional, like how to pay bills.

Buffy appreciated their willingness to take care of all that, because goddess knew she had no interest or flavor for it. Shield was what allowed them to move quickly and hack Cleveland's demons off at the knees before the Ohio hellmouth had a chance to ever see them coming. It had been easy, but they had lost a few more girls. Zarana, Chloe, Helen, and Nikki had all been casualties to the cause. That was when Buffy, Shield, and a few of the more mature slayers had decided to change the way they were operating and become more organized. After Sunnydale, it had been about simply finding where the most evil was located and trying to get the upper hand through reckless attacks. They were fighting like they were a guerilla cell, without taking the time and effort to train and bring new slayers into their midst. The Academy changed all of that, for the better.

Robin had heard that Georgia was brewing with a new threat; a big bad named Lee Brown who had been southern scum as a human, and was rising to the top as a vampire. Lee was a slave-owning entrepreneur before the civil war, and had laid low in various parts of the Bible belt where he could blend in as a demon. He used his skills as a businessman and in exploitation to create a small empire of a disgusting caliber. He bought, sold, and traded humans for some of the most powerful and established vampires in the country. Lee also had a team of lackeys who propagated rumors about him, which is what eventually got him onto the radar of Robin's contacts. Word on the street was that he had bought a charm that made him tolerant to sunlight, and he could freely live among humans, mascarading as one.

Fortunately, all of these wild rumors turned out to be false, and Lee was simply another regular vamp, who happened to have a lot of friends but not a lot of power. Dusting him and everyone in his circle was light work for Buffy and the slayers. However, their trip to Georgia was eye-opening, to say the least. Perhaps it was because she had spent almost all of her life on the east coast, but Buffy had no idea how much corruption and evil existed in the heart of the American south. Sometimes she found herself asking if they were still living in the 21st century, or if they had perhaps gone through a time portal to the 1930's and were living in some cut scene from Fried Green Tomatoes. Some of it was human, which was beyond their reach; but most of it was of the demonic variety, which Buffy could practically smell. It was obvious that as much as they despised the area, they would have to stay in the south for a long time.

Robin had suggested Charleston, since it was a safe and tolerable city, centrally located, but not as embedded in corruption. Ironically, he didn't stay more than one week after they found a place to stay. Buffy couldn't say why, but he seemed perpetually unsettled, and he was always coming and going at long intervals. She couldn't say she had ever known him well enough to miss him, but it was unfortunate to lose a good warrior and ally.

Once they signed the lease on an office building and set up a storefront, Shield created their "Book of Directives". This wasn't so much a book, as it was a list on paper about the purpose of the group and what they planned to accomplish. The first directive was that all slayers would maintain their education in the day, and conduct slayer training at night. The second directive was that only nominated slayers would be selected to go out and slay, to keep fatalities at a minimum. The third directive was that what Andrew called "The Prime Directive": everyone's goal was to find more slayers. They knew that the world was full of potentials who had been called, but identifying them had not been 100% successful, even with Willow's great spellcasting abilities. They estimated that there could be as many as 40 or 50 thousand slayers in America alone. It seemed outrageous for such a high number to exist, but of course it meant that evil increased to weigh in the balance. That resulted in many girls being killed before they ever had a chance to even understand that they had been called, or what they were. If Buffy's team couldn't make contact and bring them into the fold, they might never stand a chance.

This was how they began to find a new life in Charleston, and things started to even feel like a home, sort of. Andrew managed the storefront, which was a consulting and investigations agency. Some of the girls who were out of school worked there, and it lended them opportunities to seek out other slayers. They registered the rest of the building as apartments, legitimately, so that the girls could maintain legal addresses and attend school without raising suspicion.

Faith had even found a way to fit in, though she mainly kept to herself. She wouldn't contribute to Shield, because she said she found it "too political". She wouldn't do the difficult work in the consulting agency, like filing papers or completing reports. Of course, she was more than willing to conduct field investigations, even if they weren't related to slaying. Sometimes she followed the rules and directives, but often she "forgot" about nominating slayers, or about not making full contact during combat training. However, overall she was much easier to communicate with and she did genuinely seem to try and be part of their team. Buffy never let her guard down with Faith, but she saw her as a friend more and more over time.

Everyone pitched in to teach the girls slayer skills, but also life skills. Some of them had been rather naive, and now they were expected to not only survive, but hopefully be self-sufficient, someday.

Slaying had been a challenge with the new girls. The newest students were only nominated and allowed to go on slaying missions once a month, until they proved they were ready to move up to the next level. It was almost like a karate dojo, in some regards. Faith usually took one team, and Buffy took another. If evil was heating up, Kennedy joined one of the teams, but if things seemed benign enough then Kennedy took her own team out. For that reason especially, Faith and Buffy seldom did anything together where they really talked or interacted. It was strange how much time had passed and Faith seemed to just be part of the background.

Maybe that was why she was growing unhappy with the situation. Maybe she felt overlooked and unimportant. But that didn't seem logical or probable to Buffy, because every time she saw Faith it looked as though she was quite happy, actually. She had even made friends with a few of the slayers, and they had a comic book night once a week. Of course, she was probably closest with Andrew out of everyone in the group.

Buffy had thought that when Robin left, maybe Faith would follow. They seemed to be involved at random, occasionally appearing romantic together, other times platonic. She had no idea if there was anything there, but she was surprised when Faith stuck around in Charleston. That was why Buffy felt so strongly that her darker counterpart would always be there with them. Without Robin, the only thing that Faith had was her attachment to the new slayers and her dedication to teaching them and helping them grow. That hadn't changed, so what had?

It had been two days since Andrew and Giles had come to Buffy and broke the news. Clearly they did not expect it to have any affect on her, because they delivered it as though it were a recap of a missed episode of Desperate Housewives.

"Faith has informed us that she has made a connection through Robin with a group of humans in Utah who are hunting vampires there," Giles started dryly, "they could use a slayer on their side. Naturally, they are losing numbers. She plans to buy a cheap car and go help them. We think it's a solid plan, then she can search for new slayers, and send them to us."

"Oh, great." Buffy had responded through a mouthful of cereal. She had been right in the middle of a late breakfast when the two of them interrupted her. "So how long will she be gone?"

Andrew looked at the floor. "Forever." He made a motion like wiping away a fake tear from his eye. "I'm gonna have to find myself a new comic buddy. It sucks, but I can deal. Her plan is probably more important than reading through Jinx the Elf together."

"No, really. When will she come back?" The blonde slayer had suddenly no patience.

Giles and the smaller man shared a glance.

"She isn't coming back, or at least has no plans to, Buffy." Rupert started in his serious, fatherly voice. "She thinks it is time that she went out on her own, like Robin Wood has done."

"But, no. But, we need her here. She has responsibilities. There are things that she does here that no one else does. Obviously she trains the slayers, so we need her to train the slayers. Training the slayers is the thing that we need her to do, and that she has to keep doing." Buffy paused and looked at them rather desperately. "She can go and do that for a while, but she needs to come back here and continue to help with training. Tell her she can go for a couple weeks."

Rupert Giles scratched at his chin and took a deep breath. "We can't very well tell her she must return. Why must she? She is free to come and go, just as any one of us are. Perhaps you should ask her to return, if it is important to you. She might not know that you wish her to stay."

"I want her to stay, too!" Andrew threw up his arms animatedly. "I already begged her to stay and even promised to give her my 1/6th figure of Uhura, but she said nothing would sway her. Good luck, but don't waste your breath. Nothing is more persuasive than the finest officer the-"

"I'll talk to her." The slayer blurted out quickly. She dropped her spoon into the bowl with a loud clang and abruptly took it over to the sink, tossing it in.

"Buffy, I'm sorry." Giles apologized to her as she walked past them. "We didn't think you would..." his words trailed off as he struggled to find them.

"Yeah, it's okay. Not your fault." She replied half-heartedly. "As usual, this is her fault."

Giles and Andrew weren't entirely convinced as to why this was Faith's fault, but they thought it best to leave the conversation as it was.

In two days, Buffy had been unable to directly approach Faith about staying. She was a master of the passive aggressive, and this was no exception. Faith knew better than to ask what was wrong, so she did her best to avoid the smaller blonde. They had been through enough rough patches that this seemed familiar, albeit uncommon in the days after Sunnydale. Faith thought they had cleared the air between them, but even a blind idiot could see that Buffy shot daggers with her eyes every time the darker slayer came into a room.

None of it had been so bad as the weird confrontation in Xander's classroom, which seemed to be the climax of Buffy's angry behavior. Immediately afterward, Faith had called Charles, the leader of the humans in Utah. He asked her how soon she could leave; they were losing good warriors left and right to the vamps around Salt Lake City. She couldn't find any reason in her mind to not leave that very moment, especially considering what a bitch her supposed sister slayer was being. But something in her wanted just one more night to say goodbye, so she told him she would be on the road first thing in the morning.

She packed up her belongings, which was only enough to fit into a single suitcase and a backpack. Faith had lived by the philosophy that a slayer should always be ready to bail if the worst happened, and at least move somewhere safe. She tried to teach the younger girls the same idea, but most of them clung to their possessions like their lives depended on it. Perhaps that made sense; many of them had to leave behind families already, so it was a lot to ask them to give up even more familiarity.

The southie had picked up a Honda Civic from a Craigslist ad for $650. It was a desperately sad car, but would probably last long enough to get her to SLC. She rolled her suitcase out of their building and loaded it into her "new" car, out front. Faith was manually locking the doors when she heard that old familiar voice behind her.

"So you're leaving right now? Well goodbye, I guess."

Faith pulled her head out of the vehicle and slammed the front door shut, then turned around slowly with a resigned sigh. "No, I was planning to come back in and stay tonight. Just getting my car loaded up."

Buffy looked dissatisfied with that answer. "Why bother? You obviously don't care about what we have going on, here, anymore. If you just want to leave us here, then you better get going."

"Is that why you've been acting like this? Seriously, because I've had enough with your deal. I would ask what the problem is but I'm not even sure that I care."

The slayer rolled her green eyes with exaggeration. "Obviously. These girls need you, and you are bailing on them."

"That doesn't make any sense! They have everything they need, here! We haven't found any new slayers in the Carolinas or anywhere else in driving distance for the past 3 months, B. You know that we have to start branching out farther if we are going to locate all of them. This is a perfect opportunity, and honestly we all should start going to other places to find slayers. They need me more than the girls here do. There might be girls out there, alone, dying."

It was a good point, but Buffy was relentless. "Then let's do this smarter, let's start sending teams to go on short missions to find girls, around the country. We can put together groups and rotate. Once a month, we go somewhere new, pick up a few slayers. What you are doing is just degrading the integrity of our mission!"

"We don't have a mission. We have a training facility. I've hung around for this long enough, but you know me, sis. I'm a boots on the ground kind of gal. I always have been. It's amazing that I've stuck with this as long as I have, but now it's time."

In true Buffy-fashion, she scrunched up her nose with frustration and disgust. It was futile to argue with Faith in most instances, but especially when she was right about something. The older slayer decided to try a new approach. "You can go for one week. Then you will come back."

Faith leaned back against her Civic and folded her arms indignantly. "What makes you think you can give me orders? You don't run this show, blondie."

"You have to bring the slayers back. So find the slayers, and bring them back here."

"They are slayers, not breastfeeding infants. They can board a plane in daylight by themselves and be here safely. Alone."

Miss Summers shook her head emphatically. "No, absolutely not. I am not going to allow you to risk their lives. One slayer alone is bait for trouble. A group of them, together, is going to attract every kind of evil in the country. If they die on their way here, it will be your fault." She took a step forward and pointed her finger accusingly at Faith's chest.

"So I'm a prisoner here, now? This is bullshit! I have given the last two years of my life to helping you and your friends. I put up with your little rules committee, I teach the classes you want me to teach, I went along with all your goals and shit. Where do you get off, Buffy?!"

"You can discuss this with me when you return. Here. See you then." Buffy spun on her heel and didn't leave room for her fellow slayer to respond. Before another word could be spoken, the blonde was through the door to the office building, leaving an extremely confused Faith behind.


	3. The Almost Goodbye

Andrew made a going away cake. It wasn't anything fancy, just a plain vanilla flavored cake from a box. The best part was the frosting, which he decorated himself. He wrote "KHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANNNNNNNN" in letters that covered the entire cake top. It was nerdy and terrific, and Faith loved it. She hugged and thanked him twice for being so thoughtful.

Almost everyone came to say goodbye, even though it was short notice. Of course, Buffy didn't show her face all night.

When the beer started flowing and they cracked open whiskey, it was time for the young slayers (and Giles) to get to bed. Xander and Faith had the bright idea to do shots while Willow and Dawn played anti-strip poker, a game they invented where they had to put on as many clothes as necessary. Someone broke out a guitar and the drunken tunes began. No matter how loud and off-key they yelled out bad covers of Third Eye Blind, Buffy still wouldn't emerge.

Faith wouldn't admit it to anyone, possibly not even to herself, but deep down she was wanting the other slayer to show her face so they could finish what they had started. She hated leaving things undone, and demanded resolution. Even if it was of the negative variety, it was better than walking away from tension that didn't have some kind of an ending to it.

Unfortunately she went to bed without that satisfaction. Or rather, she passed out face down on her bed, more or less. At some point in the night, she had the brilliant idea of drinking a few glasses of water. She was the lucky one; slayers rarely got hangovers. Andrew and Xander would probably be hurting for several hours late into the day.

Around 9am, Faith stirred awake. She had left her curtains open and the sun was streaming through her window, directly into her eyes, but that wasn't the only thing that caused her to wake. It was obvious to her that someone else was in her room, and even with her eyes closed, she could sense who it was. Her sister slayer sat in a large chair, a few feet away from the bed, wearing "yoga pants" and a deep scowl.

Faith made a point of stretching dramatically in her bed, reaching across the blanket. She felt her hand brush over something hard and ridged on the pillow next to her that seemed very out of place. Confused, she wrapped her hand around it and lifted her head to find she was holding a perfect replica of Lt Uhura.

"You'll bring anyone to bed, won't you." Buffy quipped dryly, without even an ounce of playfulness in her voice.

Faith mustered a slight grin the best she could, though her face was nearly too sleepy to cooperate. "You can borrow her if you like. Or maybe she's the one you're jealous of, huh?" The half-awake slayer emphasized her innuendo with a long, purposeful stretch. Her toned arms reached high over her head and she arched her back just enough to tighten her plain white tshirt against her breasts provacatively.

Buffy instantly looked away at the wall with a grunt of disgust, the upper tips of her pale ears turning slightly pink. "Don't be gross. I came in here to say I worked with Willow on a cyber-support plan for you while you are in Utah. We will be using the resources of our consultancy systems to help find probable slayers for you to check out when you get there. Also, we will need to wire you funds to buy their plane tickets, so we have an alias for you when you go to pick up the money."

The Bostonian rubbed her eyes and swallowed down a yawn. "Yeah, yeah. I already know all this stuff, babe. Giles and Andrew gave me an envelope full of instructions and wire transfer shit like... days ago. I even got a new phone set up cause mine didn't have roaming on it. Now you can reach out and touch me."

"Stop." Buffy said quietly, but her tone was completely firm.

Faith looked at her sister slayer to find her eyes locking with aggressive intensity. It set off a mild adrenaline rush in her stomach, which felt instantly like an odd form of deja vu. It was like old, foreign muscle memory, the bitterness between them that Faith hadn't seen a trace of since all the way back to the night she tried to kill Angel. Even when she left prison, even when she took the slayers out for a binge, even when she stole Buffy's body... those hadn't sent the hairs on the back of her neck quite to the level as a few select moments between them. This was one of those moments. She could feel her fists tightening under the blankets, subconsciously her body was poising for a fight.

"It isn't funny to me, that you're leaving. This isn't some joke." Buffy continued, softening slightly. "Without you, it is basically all on me to take the slayers out. Rona, Vi, Kennedy, they are barely more experienced than the rest of these babies. You and I are the best fighters and we shouldn't be..." she trailed off, shaking her head as if she were denying her own words.

"We shouldn't be, what?"

"We just shouldn't be in two different places. When there is so much to do."

Faith took a deep breath and relaxed her body, loosening her fists. It seemed the tension was subsiding enough to lower her guard. "I just don't get you. I've been here for two years, every day, teaching the noobs and not causing a fuss. You and I don't even speak, basically. I see you once a week tops, and now you wanna sell me on this whole gig that I'm so necessary to you? No one else cares that I'm leaving, B." She gestured toward the door emphatically with her extended right hand. "All your friends and compadres out there don't care. They said goodbye, high-fives all around, a few hugs, sayonara. This is cool with everyone, so what's the what? You just don't want to see me doing something good for myself, or what?"

"I do want you to do something good. I'm glad that you are helping us find slayers. I'm glad you can help this team in Boise, or wherever. I just think you're being too brash about this."

"Brash is my middle name."

Buffy sighed heavily, not in the mood for quips. She stood up from the chair and took a step toward the bed, looking down pointedly at the brunette. It was awkward, and intimidating, as she meant for it to be. Faith twitched and felt pressured to jolt up and put herself at equal ground, but resisted the urge to move.

They locked eyes for a few breaths. Buffy spoke first. "I want to know when you'll be back."

"When I'm bored. When I'm ready. When I've run of out asses to kick and baddies to kill." Faith raised one eyebrow with resolve that didn't quiver.

"That's not good enough. I want to know that you'll be back when we need you."

Her dark eyebrows raised even higher at this. "Okay, I'll be back if you need me."

"When. You will be back when we need you."

Faith didn't mean to look baffled by this statement intentionally, but it really did seem odd. She repeated it back, though she felt she genuinely didn't understand the difference. If, when, it was all the same in her mind. Yet saying it how Buffy wanted seem to be satisfying enough to the older girl and that finally put the issue to rest.

"Email me, when you get there. Or call, if you want."

"You know I hate all of those things. But sure, I'll let you know, when I'm there."

"Drive safe." Buffy said with a weak smile.

Faith almost said "you, too" but she caught herself just as she realized what she was saying, and corrected herself. "Yo-yeah, thanks. Be seein' ya."

Neither one of them really said "goodbye", but that was as close as they came.


	4. Wichita

**Author's Note: sorrynotsorry about leaving you with a cliffhanger in this one. I promise that it means I've already started writing the next chapter!**

To drive straight from Charleston, SC to Salt Lake City, UT, it takes about 32 hours. The first part of the drive is interesting, followed by about 20-something hours of miserable flat plateaus, grass lands, corn fields, and dirt. Eventually, you start hitting rocks and low mountains, and that feeble bit of hope that you may not want to drive off a cliff and end it all, is Utah.

Faith decided to spice up her route as much as she could, even though middle America was still going to be unavoidable, either way. She spent her first night in Nashville, trying moonshine from a mason jar in an old farmhouse-turned-barn. A woman in a plaid dress and cowgirl boots approached her after jar number 4 and asked her if she was new in town.

"I guess no one wears a tshirt and jeans around here?" Faith grumbled back. Her accent quickly gave her away.

The women grinned widely and eyed her up and down. "Only men do, honey." Then she leaned in and whispered in her drawl, "I bet you know how to do things better than they do, though."

Faith didn't mind attention from women; she was used to attracting both sexes equally, especially in cheap bars. However she had learned her lesson about women in the south. They were typically looking for dirty fucks and kept company with angry men. That combination was a red flag that even Faith didn't find worthwhile to risk. She politely brushed this one off, like all the others, though she would be lying if she said it was easy to say no. She could feel an ache deep in her jeans that hadn't been relieved for much longer than she usually tolerated. How long had it been? Maybe four months, maybe six. Robin had always been good for something without getting too emotional or expecting much of her, and after he left there were a few easy targets hanging around her favorite night clubs. But lately she'd been distracted with keeping things smooth at the Academy and paying attention to how the baby slayers were doing. It was like she was losing her touch and (goddess forbid) growing old.

She shook off that horrid thought with another moonshine and swore to herself that when she got out of the south she would find someone carefree to take to bed.

That dream didn't come true in Missouri, and it sure as hell did not come true in Kansas. She took a little detour to Wichita to see if she could find a garage when her alternator seemed to be acting up. The mechanic told her it would only be a 24 hour wait to get it fixed, which felt like an extra day too long to spend there. She asked him for recommendations and he claimed that "Wichita has the best restaurants in the country, it's a well-kept secret" which caused her to bite her tongue to keep from blurting out "horse shit". Instead, she simply nodded. His terrible opinions were not worth getting into a fight, or risk him refusing to work on her Honda. It was hard enough to find a mechanic that would touch a foreign car in the middle of Kansas.

When she checked in to her motel room, she gave Charles a call to inform him of the delay. He was out, she left a message.

Faith collapsed on her bed and flipped open her phone again, looking through her contacts to see if she had another number to reach him or anyone else in the Utah group.

Academy Main

Andrew

Buffy

Charles

Giles

Robin

Willow

It was a pretty sparse list. Andrew had programmed the contacts in and he had neglected to include any of the other slayers, probably because all of them were always going over their minutes and costing the academy a fortune in fees. Faith didn't mind his taste in getting her a new phone though; it was a RAZR and it was probably the trendiest thing she'd ever owned.

She clicked on Buffy's name and tapped out a message: "hey B, u txt?"

Faith brushed her teeth and slid out of her pants and bra, leaving her underwear and tank top on for "pajamas". She flipped open her phone and saw a message. From Buffy, it said: "Andrew says I can send 100 then txts r 25 cents. Where r u"

She grinned. This was much better than wasting the time on a phone call. "Kansass. Car getting fixed."

Within less than a minute there was a reply. "Good find slayers there too"

Her brow furrowed into a scowl at this. She couldn't possibly want to avoid human interaction with the locals more than she already did, yet this request would force her to go be chummy with them. She contemplated making a joke about how they wouldn't even want to help a slayer from Kansas, but she thought better of it. "Ok will do in AM but first sleepytime"

"Me too. Be safe."

In the morning Faith grabbed a cup of black coffee and decided to wander and chat with people. She had her extreme doubts that she would find a slayer; after all, they don't readily just come forward in the middle of the morning approaching strangers, stabbing demons and breaking cement blocks with their fists. However, she felt if she put out her best effort then she could at least tell Buffy that she had given it a shot. It seemed like a fib, but much smaller than the size of the lies she used to tell, so she wore it easily.

There was only one short street worth a damn in downtown Wichita, and she had already walked it twice without seeing anything note-worthy. There were a few cute shops, and there were absolutely restaurants. She kept chuckling to herself about how these were supposedly "the best restaurants in America" as she looked in the windows and saw typical diner decor and pubfare menus on the walls. It was a clean little city, she had to admit that. Not as much character as Cambridge or Salem, but it was easy to see there was less crime than she would find in South Boston. Of course quiet cities made for quiet slayers, and she reckoned that even at night the girls who had been called would be tucked away warm in their beds instead of out around town busting heads.

She found herself meandering into a bike shop to have a look around. Oddly, it wasn't the kind of bike she usually gravitated toward. That's right, these were of the handlebar, chain, and push-pedal variety. She thought to herself that it was more of a twisted curiosity that took her there, as she genuinely wondered how there could be enough bicycle items to fill an entire store, and not just the edge of a sporting goods section.

As she perused an aisle with dozens of patch kits in every imaginable variety, she felt her phone vibrate against her thigh. It was a foreign sensation. She could feel the store clerk's eyes on her as she reached into her pocket, probably trying to see if she was there to steal. Faith had stolen enough in the past that she knew it looked nothing like how she was behaving now, but for good measure she stepped out of the aisle and kept her hands visible. The last thing she needed was some anxious shop owner calling the cops on her.

Faith read her text message, from Buffy: "Good morn, find ne slayers?"

She wasn't sure what "ne" meant but assumed it must be "new" but with a letter left off accidentally. She typed back "Nah this place is boring and quiet. Nothing going on"

She made small talk with the shop owner, just to make sure he didn't continue looking at her like a criminal. Of course, she was a criminal, but she didn't want him to think that.

"Yeah, I'm from Boston, I just got a job out in Nevada though, so I'm moving. Was just passing through when I had a little car trouble."

He made an odd face, somewhere between recognition and confusion. "Why are you this far south?"

She stumbled over the explanation and blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "I heard the restaurants here were the best in the country, no joke. I thought I'd better try a few."

"What? Who told you that?!" He broke a wide smile that traveled into his dark brown eyes, making him look genuine and softer all of a sudden. "I've been here my whole life. We have some good spots, but there's no way in heck they are the best in the country. You probably know that better than I do!"

"I think you're right. The gastropubs are nice, but they don't beat Boston."

He chuckled warmly and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the counter. Faith was pleased to see that she had managed to charm him quickly; his demeanor had gone from skeptical to friendly in just a few seconds. "I've never been to the Northeast, but it's on my list." He said with a wistful sigh. "I have been to Nevada a few times, though. What are you planning to do there? Except melt to death in that desert."

"I got a teaching job, for high school physical education. I'm also a sports coach. I guess that's what brought me in here, I thought you might have some miscellaneous sporting goods." The lie came out of her mouth easily, it was one she told frequently in Charleston when she had to explain her role at the academy or her sources of income.

"Nah, just cycling in here. Do you ride at all?"

"No, I play almost every sport under the sun, and I run, but I never really got into biking. I guess you could say I'm obsessed with women's sports, though. So maybe I'm here subconsciously. It would be the last thing for me to conquer."

The store clerk rubbed his hands together and wiggled his eyebrows playfully, as if he couldn't contain his excitement. "Well if you're ready to get set up, you're in the best place. We even have a cycling clinic every Tuesday, where we help beginners to go through learning basic maintenance for their bike. We end it with a short ride. Can you make it?"

Faith could see the conversation was steering in a direction she didn't want to take it, so she tried to bring it back under her control. "I might be able to, I was also hoping I could see some local sports while I am in town, too. Do you have any really great athletes? Anyone really exciting?" It was a long shot that had only worked to find them a slayer once before, but she figured it was the only lead she would have unless one tripped and fell into her lap.

"Exciting athletes? Well, the Wichita State Shockers are fun to watch, they might have a game going on. They've had a few boys go on to play major league, though I couldn't name them off the top of my head..."

"Any girls teams? Or really great female athletes here?"

He looked taken aback by the question but not enough to call it out for being unusual. Instead, he thought for a second. "I heard they had a girl try out for the Wichita Thunder a few months ago. That's our semi-pro hockey team. She made the newspaper and a lot of guys were pretty angry over it. I only remember because her dad is in our long riders group that meets on Thursdays, and he was complaining about how things had gotten tense at work for him, because of her."

"What was the issue?"

"Well, we've never had a girl on the hockey team, I guess. Apparently she was even better than a few of the players, but they still wouldn't take her because they just don't have gals on the team." He seemed to realize who he was talking to and blushed slightly. "No offense. I thought it was fine, just not everyone here is so open-minded, you know?"

"Sure, I know you're not like that." She reached across the counter and gently placed her hand on his forearm, reassuringly. When his brown eyes met hers, she smiled as warmly as she could force herself to muster. It was that easy. "Do you think you could tell me her name, or her father's name? I'd just love to shake her hand."

Faith had to take a taxi out to Gladys Romero's farmhouse. That was the hockey superstar. She was beginning to wonder if the issue was only partially that she was a woman who could kick all the men's asses at hockey, and if the rest of the problem was that she was a Latina. Either way, she was either one of the best damn female hockey players in middle America, or she was a slayer who didn't know what else her abilities were good for. Faith really prayed it was the latter, because the taxi ride she endured to get there was practically unbearable on account of the chatty driver, who also seemed to be high on drugs.

When she arrived, she remembered to send Buffy a text. "At potential slayer house named Gladiss. Gonna see if she is". She also remembered to try and not seem entirely creepy, but there wouldn't really be a reasonable excuse for why she had taken a cab ride 14 miles out of Wichita to the beginning scene of Wizard of Oz.

The girl who opened the door to answer Faith's knock was either a slayer, a body builder, a Marine, or perhaps all of the above. She had broad shoulders and a thick torso, packed into a plain grey tshirt. She was wearing loose basketball shorts and her calves bulged with definition. Her black hair was pulled back in a wild ponytail and her caramel skin had a light layer of sweat. On her hands were lifting gloves, as if it wasn't enough that she was already foreboding and powerful in her frame.

Faith tried not to feel intimidated, but the sensation was immediate. "Uh... Gladys Romero?"

"Maybe. Why?"

"Well, I am a reporter for the Boston Globe and I am doing a piece on female athletes in America who challenge gender norms. Or not, gender norms, but more like, they are better than male athletes. I am writing about all these women who are better at sports than men." The slayer could tell that she was not at all convincing with her pitch, so she tried to compensate. "Look, I don't really write for the Globe, but I _want_ to. I think this article could get me in. I've heard from the editor and he said if I get a good enough topic, they'll bring me on. I want to get the fuck out of Wichita, you know? This might be my shot. Can I please interview you?"

Gladys looked annoyed to the degree of being angered, and she slowly dragged her eyes up and down over Faith, as if this would help her determine her credibility. "What's your name?"

"Faith Lehane."

"That seems like the only part that is not bullshit."

Faith shifted on her feet and shrugged. "Yeah, well... then would you believe I'm just your biggest fan?"

The muscular girl shook her head slowly with determination. "Nope. You didn't even know if I was who you were looking for. You still don't. Do you work for the team?"

"The hockey team? Nah."

"Are you trying to keep my mouth shut about the players?" Gladys clenched her fists, a subtle movement. Any regular person wouldn't have noticed, but a slayer could easily see that she was poising for a fight, and Faith didn't feel like throwing down.

"Listen," the southie raised her hands slowly, "all I know about hockey is that the Bruins are the fucking best, and everyone else sucks. I didn't even know this little town had a team until I rolled in, okay? I just wanna talk to you for a few minutes. If you don't like what I have to say, I'll leave."

Gladys stepped back into her house and swung the screen door shut, creating a physical barrier between them. She crossed her arms and continued to give her unwanted guest a staredown through the screen. "You have about thirty seconds, then. You already lied to me, so don't lie again."

"Okay. I won't lie. I just want to ask you a few things, and you tell me if it sounds good to you." Faith looked for a response or encouragement, but found none, so she pressed on. "Did you have a major change in your life about 2 years ago? Did you suddenly find you were extremely strong, stronger than a regular person? Were you suddenly able to heal quickly, and recover wicked fast from things?"

"Puta, I've always been strong." Gladys mumbled from behind the screen, but there was something in her voice this time. Some uncertainty, perhaps.

"Right, I can see that. But maybe this really changed things for you and now you feel like you are meant to do even more than you have ever done. More than just play hockey, even. More than lift weights or punch bags or whatever awesome turbo-ass-kicking you were just up to, in there. If I'm wrong, then I'll walk my pretty ass back to the city and hop in my car and continue. But if I'm right, and I think I am, then you need to know that there are more girls out there like you. A lot more of us. And we want to help you, and teach you, and also show you what your power is really meant for."

There was dead silence as Gladys only blinked in response. Her face showed absolutely no emotion, whatsoever, or at least whatever it might be revealing was obscured by the screen separating them. Faith nervously tapped her index finger lightly on the side of her jeans, but otherwise remained still to give the other woman a chance to respond. It was excruciating for her to force herself not to blurt out something extreme like "wanna kill vampires with me or what?!" But she knew eventually this girl would have to reply with something. Right?


End file.
